I Love Men
The most controversial thing I've said recently was compassionate.
Last month I posted three words I never expected to become controversial.
I love men.
Within a few days, more than 100,000 people had seen the post. Thousands commented and liked it. Hundreds of men wrote to tell me they cried. Some said they couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken about them with that kind of warmth. Others thanked me for reminding them they were more than what they could provide, produce, or endure.
There were other responses too.
People called me naïve. A “pick me.” Some insisted the only value men have is in what they do. Others assumed those three words meant I was minimizing the very real harm many women, including myself, have experienced.
I understood those reactions.
What fascinated me wasn’t the disagreement. It was how quickly three simple words became a mirror.
Not reflecting who men truly are.
Reflecting the stories we carry about them.
Love Doesn’t Require Simplicity
I love men.
Not because they’ve never hurt me. I’ve experienced real harm at the hands of men. I’ve also experienced extraordinary kindness from them.
I’ve been mentored by men. Protected by men. Challenged by men. Collaborated with men. Loved by men.
Those truths don’t compete with one another.
Healing my relationship to men hasn’t asked me to choose one story over another. It’s asked me to become more capable of holding both.
I’ve started to wonder if maturity isn’t arriving at certainty. Maybe instead it’s being able to expand our capacity to hold many truths at once.
Gender Was Never Big Enough
One of the greatest gifts of coming to understand myself as nonbinary wasn’t finally finding a word that fit my experience. It was realizing how much suffering comes from believing human beings can be neatly sorted into categories.
Masculine.
Feminine.
Strong.
Weak.
Protector.
Provider.
Victim.
Villain.
The more freedom I found from rigid ideas about who I was supposed to be, the more curious I became about everyone else trapped inside those same expectations.
Especially men.
Because I started seeing something I hadn’t fully understood before. Many of them weren’t simply performing masculinity.
They were also surviving it.
What bell hooks Understood
I love men.
Not because I think they’re uncomplicated. But because I don’t think any of us are.
bell hooks writes in The Will to Change that the first act of violence patriarchy demands of boys is not violence toward women — it is violence toward themselves.
Men are taught to sever themselves from their emotional lives long before they become adults.
I’ve never forgotten that.
Reading through the comments on my post, I wasn’t struck by men asking to be admired. I was struck by how many seemed relieved.
Relieved to be seen as something more than a paycheck. More than a protector. More than someone whose worth depends on how much they can endure before breaking.
My post and those celebrating it in the comments weren’t asking any of us to lower the bar for men. Instead, what I experienced us celebrating together is the full, imperfect humanity of men in a patriarchal culture that harms and dehumanizes us all.
There’s a difference.
Creativity Is How We Imagine New Relationships
Every healthy relationship begins with a creative act: imagining that another way of relating is possible.
The longer I study creativity, the less I believe it’s primarily about making art. I think creativity is our capacity to imagine beyond the stories we’ve inherited.
It’s what allows us to see ourselves differently. To see one another differently. To interrupt old patterns instead of repeating them.
Every healthy relationship I’ve built — whether with myself or someone else — has begun with a creative act.
The willingness to imagine that another way of relating might be possible.
Maybe that’s why those three words landed the way they did. Not because everyone agreed with them.
But because they invited us to imagine something different.
Doing Something Different
I love men.
Not because they’re perfect. Not because women aren’t hurting. Not because accountability doesn’t matter.
I love men because I refuse to believe the healthiest future we’ll build together begins by reducing one another to our deepest wounds, cultural tropes, or worst moments.
Love has never asked me to become less discerning. It’s asked me to become more curious. More honest. More courageous. More willing to imagine relationships that don’t have to repeat the past.
Lately, that’s what doing something different means to me.
Not abandoning accountability. Not pretending harm didn’t happen. But refusing to let fear, shame, or inherited scripts have the final word.
Because every relationship — whether with ourselves or with each other — is shaped by the stories we’re willing to imagine.
Coming Friday
If today’s essay is about seeing the stories we’ve inherited ...
Friday’s guide is about rewriting them.
I’ll share five simple practices that have helped me notice — and interrupt — the inherited relationship stories I didn’t even realize I was living inside. Small experiments you can begin practicing immediately with yourself, your partner, your friends, or your family.
If you’d like that in your inbox, make sure you’re subscribed.
An Invitation
This question — what becomes possible when we relate differently? has quietly become the center of my work.
It’s why I’m creating Creative Reset Studio, a place to build a more secure relationship with yourself through creative practice.
And it’s why we just launched DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT, a space devoted to practicing healthier relationships with one another in real time.
Because I don’t think we change our lives by winning arguments. I think we change them by becoming willing to practice and create something different together.
If you’re in a season of becoming, I’d love to create alongside you. Reply here or send me a message on Instagram @bowierowie if you’d like to learn more.
Hi, I’m Bowie 👋🏼
I write about creativity, relationships, psychology, and reinvention — and how we stop surviving and start participating in our lives again.
If this essay resonated, consider subscribing. New essays arrive every Tuesday, with practical guides every Friday. I take the last week of every month off to rest since it’s an essential practice in sustaining my creativity.
Reply here or send me a message on Instagram @bowierowie if you’d like to learn more about the Creative Reset Studio — Founding Membership or DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT: A Relationship Lab, both opening this summer.